The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the massive steel structure of the offshore oil rig. The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, and the ceaseless hum of machinery echoed all around. Rajni stood in her small, utilitarian room, the faint sound of the wind battering against the walls, her fingers nervously brushing through the ends of her dark brown, wavy hair. She hadn’t paid much attention to the briefing during her recruitment, but she quickly learned that here, on this rig, luxuries like a salon or a proper hairdresser were non-existent. If you wanted your hair done, you either did it yourself or enlisted the help of one of the crew members.
But Rajni, a 28-year-old petrochemical engineer from Sri Lanka, wasn’t accustomed to living on this offshore platform. The excitement of the city, the bustling streets, the soft whispers of the salon were long forgotten, a distant memory of her Colombo city life. Her life now revolved around the hum of machinery, the constant motion of the oil rig beneath her feet, and the tight-knit camaraderie of the workers who inhabited this isolated world. And yet, something had changed. It had been a while since Rajni had felt a connection to anything other than the endless stretches of ocean and the daily grind of her engineering work. Her long hair, had begun to feel like a weight she no longer wanted to carry. Long hair was good during her college and city life to show it on fashionable clothes, but now no clothes, no fashion, and there was no need for long hair.
That morning, as the last of the crew members trickled out for lunch, Rajni found herself standing before the small mirror in her room. Her long, thick and heavy hair tied into a braid, rested against the back of her neck, a reminder of who she used to be—someone who cared about appearances. But now? Now, Rajni had the itch to let go, to make a change.
The thought had been bubbling in her mind for days, and now, with no one around to judge or question her, Rajni decided to take the plunge.
The First Cut: The Braid
She took a deep breath and, with a steady hand, grabbed her braid. It was tightly wound, thick and heavy with years of growth. She could feel the weight of it in her hand, the way the strands pulled slightly against her scalp. The small and rusted, but sharp scissors sat on the small table before her, an old tool she’d found among the rig’s supplies. She hadn’t used them for anything serious in years, but they were sharp enough for a task like this.
Rajni hesitated for a moment, her fingers trembling as she held the braid taut with her left hand. The scissors hovered above the thick plait, its dark brown threads glistening faintly in the dim light of her room. With a deep exhale, she started opening and closing the blades of the scissors on in her hand to test them. The sound of metal scraping against each other was strangely satisfying, like a small promise of something new, something freeing.
The first cut came quickly. She positioned the scissors at the base of her neck, where the braid met the nape of her skin. The blades closed slowly, the sharp edges slicing through a section of the thick bundle of hair with a gentle snip. A small cascade of hair tumbled to her shoulders, falling in soft, dark waves. There was something almost therapeutic about it—the way the hair cascaded forward in slow motion, as if it had waited for this moment.
She took another breath and repeated the motion, again and again snip-snip, snip-snip, snip-snip, until she had separated the braid completely. Each snip felt like a small release, a little weight lifted. The braid hung loosely in her hand now, the jagged ends a reminder of the past. Rajni carefully sliced at the ragged edge with the scissors, evening out the once-perfect braid into a smooth, uniform shape. She would keep it as a memory, packing it away when the helicopter came next time to take the crew back to the mainland. The thought of taking her first cut from the rig back with her filled her with an unexpected sense of pride.
The Next Steps: Shaping the Rest
As soon as the braid was cut off, Rajni’s hair fell forward, tumbling into her face in soft, dark waves. The waves, once neatly contained in her braid, now fell loose and free. Her hair, no longer confined, now hung around her shoulders, some pieces just brushing her chin, others falling just below her lips. She stared at herself for a long moment in the mirror, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the loose strands. She was already looking good in the mirror. It was as though she had shed a part of herself, something that had defined her for years. But there was something exhilarating about it, too.
She reached for her comb, running it through her hair to divide it into two sections. The right side of her hair fell neatly over her shoulder, and she held it in her left hand, eyeing the unevenness of the lengths. With the scissors in her right hand, she began to cut. Slowly, carefully, she snipped away at the irregular ends, taking off roughly two inches. The scissors clicked with each snip, and the strands of dark brown hair fell softly to the floor, brushing against her shoulders. It felt strange to be so intimate with her hair, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel empowered.
She repeated the process on the left side, carefully holding the section in her left hand and trimming it to match the right. With each cut, her hair became more even, more manageable, more like the fresh start she was craving. The soft waves of her hair curled gently against her fingertips, the lightness of it a contrast to the weight of the braid she had just severed.
Once both sides were trimmed to her satisfaction, she combed her hair down in front of her, watching the strands fall loosely around her face. The ends now reached her lips, a few stray pieces grazing her chin. Rajni studied her reflection for a moment, tilting her head from side to side. It was a far cry from the sleek, professional look she had worn in the past, but it felt right.
With one final glance in the mirror, she took her phone and snapped a quick picture of her back. The image showed the ragged ends of her cut hair, uneven and imperfect, but there was something beautiful about it. Something real, and the satisfaction of self-haircut. However, after a closer look, she frowned. The back was a little uneven; a few stray strands hung lower than the rest. It wasn’t perfect, but then again, it was her. No one would notice out here. No one but the crew, anyway.
The Unexpected Help
Later that afternoon, Rajni was sitting down for lunch in the crew mess when a fellow engineer, Ishan, approached her.
“I see you’ve taken matters into your own hands,” he said with a grin, his eyes flicking to her freshly cut hair.
Rajni smiled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, just wanted a change. It’s not perfect, though.”
Ishan chuckled. “It looks good from here, but I can help you with the back if you want. I’ve done a few cuts for some of the crew before.”
Rajni hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Why not? I’m not exactly a pro at this.”
After lunch, Rajni followed Ishan back to her room, where he carefully examined the back of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, finding the uneven spots feeling very good and sensual. It was rare for a crewman to run his fingers through a woman’s hair. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he said, his voice calm and assured.
Ishan reached for his own pair of scissors, their blades gleaming in the light. The sound of the scissors snipping through her hair was sharp and precise. With each stroke, he expertly evened out the uneven lengths, trimming away the last remnants of Rajni’s old look. He worked methodically, as Rajni sat still, letting him take the reins. There was something oddly soothing about the sensation of someone else cutting her hair, the way the scissors glided through her strands. It was a quiet reminder that sometimes, change was not something you had to face alone.
The Return to Land
Three months later, Rajni finally had the chance to visit land. The helicopter ride was long, the rig shrinking behind her as the bustling city of Colombo came into view. She carried with her the small bundle of hair she had cut off that day—the braid that had once symbolized so much of who she was. As the helicopter landed and the noise of the rotor blades faded, she held the braid close, tucking it into her bag.
The city was a far cry from the offshore rig, but as Rajni walked through the streets, her haircut felt like a reflection of the woman she had become. She had shed the old layers of her life and, in doing so, found herself again. The braid, now carefully stored away at home, would be a reminder of her first job, of the time she spent on the rig, and of the boldness it took to make a change.
The haircut might have been simple, but for Rajni, it marked the beginning of something new, something that could never be undone.